Never Coming Home
by Bailation
Summary: Ron never returns back to Harry and Hermione after leaving during the Horcrux Hunt in DH. His friends fight through the war alone without him until they finally meet again during the final battle. Can Harry and Hermione forgive him for his rash decision?
1. Chapter 1

The sword was at the bottom of the pool. Bloody figures.

Harry took out his wand to summon the sword, already knowing it wasn't going to work.

"_Accio_."

The sword remained motionless as he frowned and put his wand away.

His next idea seemed to be his only option, even though he knew it was the stupidest thing he could do.

Moments later, Harry was standing over the pool in nothing but his underwear, the locket still around his neck and the frosty air stinging his skin. He took a deep breath, thinking he must have gone mad, and dived into the icy water.

Every nerve in his body was on fire. He felt like screaming, but he had to focus on the task at hand. The sword was directly below him, and as he reached for it, the locket around his neck suddenly began to move.

The chain tightened around his throat, closing off his windpipe. His fingers fumbled around it as he struggled against it, and he was slightly aware of the water that was filling up his lungs.

He closed his eyes and the sword escaped his sight. He felt himself slipping into unconsciousness as the pain of the chain around his neck strengthened…he just hoped some ally would find his body eventually…

He was only half-conscious when he distantly felt some kind of force wrap itself around him and pull him up to the surface…

The next thing he knew, he was coughing violently on the edge of the pool, the feel of the frozen ground on his hands and knees. The pain of the strangling locket around him was gone, and without his glasses, he could vaguely see a figure moving beside him out of the corner of his eye…

"For _Merlin's_ sake, Harry, you're bloody lucky you weren't _killed_!"

He turned his head and fumbled for his glasses on the ground, his hand finally finding them as he jammed them onto his face to see Hermione stripping off her jacket, the locket in one hand and her wand in the other. At her feet, Gryffindor's sword lay in the snow, gleaming in the early morning's light.

He stared at her as he struggled to pull on the clothes he had stripped only moments ago. She took pity on him as she wrapped her own jacket around him, grabbing his arm and gently pulling him to his feet.

"You alright?" she asked quietly, her voice shaking with deadly anger. He could barely pluck up the courage to look into her brown eyes, which were full of both worry and fury. He nodded silently as she glared daggers at him and grabbed the sword off the ground. She held the locket in front of his face and her eyes were now even brighter with anger than before.

"Why didn't you take this off before jumping in?" she asked, her voice full of deadly rage. "You could've killed yourself! And then where would I be?"

He looked at Hermione's distressed expression, and realized she had been extremely worried moments ago. She had already been to hell and back after Ron had left. She didn't deserve to lose another person she cared about. Why had he acted so rashly?

"Bloody hell," he murmured under his breath. "I'm sorry. Merlin, Hermione, I'm so sorry. I know I shouldn't have done it, but I had to get the sword. I'll explain everything later, but I just need you to know I didn't mean to put you through all that."

Hermione's eyes suddenly changed from being filled with fume and fury to anguish and sorrow. Silent tears filled her eyes and began to pour down her face. She squeezed her eyes shut in attempt to stop them from falling, but they only fell faster.

Harry frowned as he gently rested his hand on her shoulder, afraid she may lash out. However, at the feel of him, she quickly fell against him and wrapped her arms around his waist as she sobbed uncontrollably.

Harry sighed and wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her gently to his own body. He realized this wasn't about him, or the sword, or even Hermione being alone. It was about Ron.

He bent his head down so his lips were close to her ear. "We'll going to find him, Hermione. I promise you, he'll come back." He didn't completely believe his own words, but he hoped Hermione would. However, she shook her head against his body.

"No," she said softly, her voice cracking with tears. "He's not. He's given up. I know Ron, and I know he gives up easily. He's made up his mind, and he's never coming back."

Harry could hardly argue with this, but he had to try. He couldn't allow himself to lose both of his best friends, even if it was just emotionally. He gently placed his hands on her shoulders and pushed her away so he could look into her face.

"Listen, Hermione," he said seriously. "I have to tell you something that I think you already know. Ron cares about us. Merlin, he's mad about you. He loves you so much, Hermione, and that's why he left. He was under the impression that we, you and me, have a relationship that he wants to have with you. Now, both you and I know that that's not true. But the locket, that damn locket in your hands, has torn us apart. It made Ron's fears real, and in turn, heightened his irritation level.

"We can't let the locket tear us apart, Hermione. The locket already took Ron away from us, but we can't give into it."

Harry watched Hermione carefully, hoping to see her expression change. But she only shook her head frantically, denying everything Harry had said. "He doesn't love me, Harry. The way I understand it, a person wouldn't leave another person they love, no matter what. He doesn't care about me."

Harry wanted to shake her to make her understand, but there was no way to convince her that the man who had left her was gone out of jealousy.

"Alright, Hermione," he said, rubbing his temples. "Just let me ask you this: if Ron didn't care about you, why was it that he would watch you fall asleep at night for the last few months? Why did he bring you a blanket and tea when you were on watch in the dead of night? Why was it that the first thing he did in the diner a few months ago when he knew we were under attack, was push _you_ out of the way?"

Hermione was silent, seemingly having no explanations for any of these questions. She wiped her hand across her face and sniffed, avoiding his eyes. Harry leaned in toward her and whispered, "That doesn't sound like someone who's given up, or who doesn't care about you."

Harry squeezed her hand and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "I can tell you right now that Ron loves _you_ more than anything else. You're his world, he just has a hard time showing it sometimes. I think you and I both know that."

Hermione rubbed her eyes and said nothing. She let out a heavy breath as she began to fumble with the buttons on her jacket that was now stretched across Harry's shoulders. "We have to get back to the tent. You're going to catch a cold, and I'll be damned if I have to deal with another sick person –"

"Hermione –"

"Come on, Harry."

She turned her back and began to shuffle back in the direction of the tent, the locket and sword both in hand. Harry sighed as he followed, reluctantly dropping the conversation.

They walked in silence side by side before Harry turned his head and saw Hermione's broken face. Her eyes had filled with tears once again that were threatening to fall.

"I miss him so much." Her voice was meek and small, like she had been afraid to say such a meaningful set of words. Harry furrowed his brow and wrapped his arm around her once more.

"I know."

They continued back to the tent in silence, the only sound in the forest being the crunching of the snow beneath their feet.


	2. Chapter 2

He had been at Shell Cottage for a little over a month and he was going absolutely mad.

It had killed him to leave Harry and Hermione, once he had come to his senses. The moment he had left that tent, he had been blinded by red hot fury for his best friends. Almost immediately after he had taken off the locket, however, he had wanted to turn back and apologize a million times for his complete stupidity until his friends allowed him to stay.

Unfortunately, there was no way he could turn back after a row like that. Ron cringed as the last visual he had of Hermione's face flashed through his mind. Her face had looked so broken and full of sorrow. He had never wanted to hurt her like that, but he had done it with little effort at all.

He sat up in the bed of the guest room in which he was currently living. The small cottage that belonged to his brother and his wife was comfortable and peaceful, but it only made Ron sick to his stomach to think he was staying in a safe environment while Harry and Hermione were half-starving deep in a forest somewhere…

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get the image of Hermione's face out of his brain. She haunted every inch of his thoughts, even after the scarring experience he had had with the Snatchers. They were rather stupid and easy to send off with a false back story, but the fact that he got away only made him feel guiltier about leaving Harry, and especially, Hermione.

He deserved the worst punishment possible. He deserved years in Azkaban after what he did to his friends. If he ever saw them again, he would apologize over and over again, but he wouldn't be surprised if they decided to never forgive him.

Ron flipped his legs over the side of the bed so he was now sitting on the edge. He allowed his head to fall into his open palms and rubbed his temples with his fingertips. Why was he always so stupid? He had made some bad decisions throughout his life, but this one was had to be the biggest.

He sighed deeply as he dug through the small rucksack he had brought on the Hunt, which held a small amount of belongings. He felt the edge of a book, and tugged on the object.

A leather bound book was revealed to him as he placed it carefully on his lap. It had been a gift from Hermione on his sixteenth birthday in fifth year, one of the only years in school in which they hadn't had a major row that tore them apart for a large amount of time.

It was a photo album that Hermione had filled with pictures of herself and Ron from first year through fifth. It had only been half-full, and Ron had taken this as a hint that Hermione expected him to fill it with more as their relationship grew. He had taken the hint, and had spent the next couple years filling it in his free time with random moments of him and Hermione. They had been in good moods in fifth year, and it was the one time Ron felt like their friendship could finally turn into something more. This gift from Hermione made him think that she could possibly feel the same, especially since none of the pictures included Harry.

But after their row in the middle of the forest and the tension in the last few months, he now believed he would be lucky if he would be able to have Hermione on a friendship basis again, if he even saw her again.

He sighed as he opened the book and flipped through the photographs of him and Hermione, some of which he had completely forgotten about. His eyes began to tear up as they feasted on the sight of her face for the first time in a month. Every photo of her was absolute perfection, even the older ones, of which she had massive hair and large teeth.

Memories, both good and bad, came flooding back into Ron's mind. As he flipped through the pages, Hermione flashed all over his brain, every emotion he had ever seen on her face submerging his head. A few photos in particular stood out to him and made him cringe with sadness and regret.

One photo was of Hermione sitting on the sofa in the Gryffindor common room reading a book while leaning against Ron's shoulder, who sat next to her reading a Quidditch magazine. They both looked like they were in the midst of their fourth year, before their row at the Yule Ball. Ron smiled slightly at the sight of the two of them together. Every once in a while, his photograph self would look down over his shoulder and shoot Hermione a grin. He looked at her as if she was his absolute world, which Ron now knew she was.

He flipped further through the book, and finally turned to the last page of photographs. There still was a fair amount of empty pages, and Ron regretted the fact that he had been ignoring both his camera and Hermione for the last few months.

The very last photo that he had put into the book was of Hermione. It had been over the summer, about two days after she had arrived at the Burrow, and a few days before they paid a visit to the Dursley's to pick up Harry.

Ron's conscious squirmed as the photo Hermione smiled softly up at him. Her hair was pulled back from her face, pinned into a bun at the back of her head and exposing her soft neck. A few strands of her brown hair hung in her face, which she brushed back behind her ears and laughed at the camera. Ron suddenly realized he had told her a joke in order to make her smile.

The day had been full of emotions for him and Hermione, due to the fact that Harry hadn't arrived yet, and they had plenty of time to think about preparations for the war.

And suddenly, that day came flooding back into his mind.

After breakfast, he had been walking toward his room when he had heard soft sobs coming from within Ginny's room. He immediately knew who it was.

Knocking softly, he pressed an ear to the door and whispered, "Hermione?"

Her sobs stopped immediately as she heard him at the door. He listened as her footsteps got louder and almost fell into the room as the door swung open and Hermione's hand grabbed his collar and tugged him inside.

"Hermione, what's wrong?"

She looked up at him with tear-filled eyes, carefully grabbing his hand as she pulled him onto her cot next to herself. He followed her lead and gently squeezed her hand as he turned his body toward hers.

"I have to tell you something, Ron," she said quietly. "Promise you won't tell anyone. I want to tell everyone else when I'm ready."

He nodded frantically, extending his arm around her shoulders. "'Course, Hermione. I won't tell anyone." Whatever it was that was making her so upset had to be important. He couldn't do anything to cause her to become more distressed.

She exhaled deeply and looked down at her hands. "D'you remember the first day I arrived here, and you asked if my parents needed to be taken into hiding?"

Ron frowned and nodded. "You didn't answer straight away. You just gave me excuses and told me to forget about it."

Hermione nodded and squeezed her eyes shut, trapping more tears with her hand as they made their way down her face. "My parents aren't…in proper mental health."

His frown grew deeper as his eyes searched her face for answers. "Hermione…what do you mean?"

She looked up at him with distress-filled eyes. "Ron – I Obliviated my parents! I rearranged their memories so they don't remember me at all. They think their names are Wendell and Monica Wilkins and their life ambition is to move to Australia. They – they don't even know they have a daughter!"

She now was openly sobbing once more, and Ron could feel his heart slowly breaking. He gathered her in his arms and squeezed her against his chest. "Merlin, Hermione, why did you do that?"

"Ron!" she pushed away from him and looked up at him, her eyes now filled with fire. "I had to! If we're going to stick by Harry, I had to protect my parents. You-Know-Who could easily hunt my parents down and track Harry down through me, because I've told them quite a lot about you and him. It was the only way."

Ron sighed and stroked a few strands of hair out of her face. "But why couldn't you have let the Order take care of it, like they're doing with Harry's muggles? You didn't need to take their memories away."

Hermione shook her head. "What the Order is doing isn't enough. I had to make sure they were safe myself. They left the country a few hours before the Order came to pick me up. They're in Australia now."

Ron felt absolutely speechless. He wrapped his arms around her again and tightened their embrace. "Merlin, Hermione. You could've told me, I would've come to help in any way needed –"

"I didn't want to bother you. I wanted to handle it myself."

He looked down and met her eyes. "Don't you ever think you're a bother to me. Hermione, I would help you no matter what situation you were in, got that?"

She nodded and wiped away her tears once more. "This war is only going to get worse. It makes me sick."

Ron looked at her broken face, and gently hugged her again, kissing the top of her head as he did so. "Me and Harry are going to be with you every step of the way, I promise. And when it's all over, we'll help you get your parents back. As for the war, we'll keep you safe."

The memory of that day suddenly dissolved and Ron opened his eyes to see the photo of Hermione once more. The promise he had made to her earlier that day made him feel sick to his stomach. How could he have been so tactless and cruel as to leave the one person he never wanted out of his sight?

As he watched the photographic Hermione laugh, a new happier memory came rushing into his brain.

That evening, just as the sun was setting, he had found Hermione on the porch in the front yard, staring out at the red, sinking sun. She looked up at him and smiled slightly. "Hi."

"Hi," he replied cautiously. She had avoided him all day after her small confession in Ginny's room that morning. "Are you feeling any better?"

"A little." She broke the gaze they had been sharing and looked back at the sun. "You can sit down, you know."

He sat down on the bench next to her, feeling as though she was about to burst into sobs. But as he studied her face he realized she actually looked quite happy. He thought a moment and decided he couldn't miss the moment.

He stood and Hermione looked up at him questioningly. "Where are you going?"

"Just stay here."

He returned only moments later with the camera he hadn't touched for months. He looked around the corner at Hermione without exposing himself and snapped a picture. Hermione looked round at the flash and laughed as Ron revealed himself.

"Ron, why?"

He met her eyes and said, "You just looked so content…I didn't want to miss it. Now are you going to smile again or am I going to have to get the twins to do something funny?"

She laughed at him, and he snapped another picture before she could object.

"Ron, I wasn't ready!"

He grinned cheekily as he sat down next to her once more. "Who cares? It'll turn out brilliant."

She blinked, looking slightly taken aback. "You think so?"

"I know so." He wrapped an arm around her and squeezed her to his side. "You don't take bad pictures, Hermione."

Ron suddenly shook himself from his memories and looked down at the picture he had taken of her. He had been right; it had turned out absolutely perfect. Then again, he didn't think Hermione could take a bad picture. He just wished he could see her smile one last time, in person.

His mistakes and regrets, however, completely contradicted this wish. The only thing Ron could comprehend was the fact that he wanted to take every mistake he had made with Hermione back and lock them away forever.


End file.
